


Breaking Apart

by court_dancer10



Series: Worthless [2]
Category: Men's Hockey RPF
Genre: Grieving, Talk of Suicide, this was really hard to write
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-19
Updated: 2019-02-19
Packaged: 2019-10-31 20:07:47
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,055
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17856134
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/court_dancer10/pseuds/court_dancer10
Summary: Sequel to "Worthless." Connor and Mitch get the news of Dylan's suicide.





	Breaking Apart

Connor

The game had just ended, a decisive victory for the Oilers. Connor was smiling, happy, and raced to the showers to clean off before the media demanded his attention. It wasn’t the media that he found waiting for him, though. Coach pulled him aside as soon as he was dressed, and took him to a trainer’s room. His face was tense, and he wouldn’t look Connor in the eye.

“Coach? What’s up?” Connor was confused. Rarely did Coach talk to him personally before they had spoken to the media, and each time it wasn’t good news that had prompted the change in routine. 

“I don’t know how to say this, kid.We got a call at the end of the third.”

Connor waited for Coach to keep talking, but it appeared he had lost his nerve, and Connor was becoming more and more worried as the seconds ticked by.

“What happened? Is someone hurt?” Connor was trying to stay calm, but images of his brother or mom or dad in an ambulance were taking over his brain, and he could feel his breathing becoming more shallow.

“Not… Not hurt, no. Fuck. I’m sorry, Connor, I’m just going to be blunt about this, because there’s no way to make this any easier. Dylan Strome was found in his apartment earlier tonight. He overdosed. They’re saying it was suicide. I’m sorry, Connor.”

Coach had put his hand on Connor’s shoulder, but he barely felt it. Dylan couldn’t be gone. This was all a misunderstanding. Dylan had probably just had too much to drink while partying and passed out. He wouldn’t kill himself. He wouldn’t.

“No. No, he’s fine. He’s fine, Coach, I just need to call him. He’s fine. I need to… I need to call him. Now.”

Connor bolted out of the room before Coach could say anything or try to stop him, and went straight for his phone. He had dozens of missed calls and texts, but that wasn’t unusual after a win. He ignored everything else, bringing up Dylan’s name and hitting call. Dylan would answer, and explain what had happened, and it would all be fine. Except Dylan didn’t answer. Connor called again and again, but it always went to voicemail. He switched over to his texts, planning to send Dylan a message asking him to call him when he could, but when he clicked on the string of messages between them, he realized he had a missed text from Dylan. 

Connor was numb. There it was, written out in front of him. Confirmation of what Coach had said. Dylan was gone. He stared at his phone, tears blurring his vision. His legs gave out, and he fell to his knees with a thud. He was sobbing, unable to stop the flow of tears. His best friend was gone. How had he not known had bad it had gotten? 

Someone was wrapping their arms around him, pulling him forward to rest again their chest. There were hands on his back, rubbing up and down in what was probably supposed to be a soothing manner. He didn’t want to be soothed. He wanted to scream and cry and rip his own hair out. 

Part of him had died with Dylan, and he didn’t think he would ever feel complete again. 

\----

Mitch

Mitch was flying high. He was spending his evening with the Marleau’s and Auston, one of his favorite places to be. He was laughing, laying on the floor next to Auston, who he’d just finished wrestling while the kids egged them on as Patty shook his head in amusement at their antics. When Mitch’s phone buzzed in his pocket, he pulled it out, still giggling. His giggles quickly turned to silence, a look of complete horror overtaking his face.

He sat up quickly, all of the humor gone from his body. He scrambled to get his fingers to work, trying to get his phone to call Dylan. There was no way it was real. Dylan would never kill himself. And besides, he had mentioned that he had a team function tonight, so he was surrounded by people who would make sure he was safe. There was no reason to panic.

His calls to Dylan kept going to voicemail, though. Which, again, no reason to panic. He was with his team. He probably threw his phone somewhere and was messing around with the guys. Mitch waffled for a minute, trying to decide if he should call Dylan’s parents, or if that was overreacting. Eventually he decided to do it, just to make sure. 

Hanging up the phone, he wished he had never made that call. He wished he could go back in time and stop this from ever happening. He didn’t know what to do. He got up off of the floor and began searching for his shoes, moving on autopilot. His phone dropped from numb fingers, the screen cracking as it hit the ground. Mitch just stared at it, not making any move to pick it up. Who cared? Dylan would never call him on that phone again. Dylan would never text him about the stupid shit his teammates did, or the dumb prank that he had pulled. 

Rage overtook him, and he lashed out, kicking out at his phone, and reaching for anything close enough to throw. How could Dylan do this? Why wouldn’t he reach out, just make a fucking phone call? How hadn’t Mitch noticed? Was he so hung up on his own shit that he hadn’t noticed his best friend needed help? 

He felt a pair of arms wrap around him, restricting him from throwing anything else. He thrashed, trying to get out of the grip, but they wouldn’t let go. 

“Mitch, stop! What’s going on?”

Once he registered that that was Patty’s voice he stopped, letting himself go limp. His body was shaking with sobs, and he clutched onto Patty’s arms. Auston came into his eyeline, Mitch’s phone clutched in his hand. His eyes were wet, and he had obviously read the text.

“Mitchy, I’m so sorry. I’m so, so sorry.”

Mitch sobbed harder, reaching out to Auston with one arm, pulling him in to clutch at him and Patty. He didn’t know how he’d survive this, but he knew that he wouldn’t be alone in it.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading, guys! I love to read your guys' comments, so I'd be thrilled to see what you thought!


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